Let me rephrase that: I am god of Cybertron. I have
accomplished the ultimate in my race. Not only have I
the ability to transform. I have the ability to
procreate, to create and direct a war that has gone on
for millions and millions of years.

More than that, I have the ability and the drive to
fully control and manipulate every mechanism on my own
planet. My own piece of real estate in the cosmos. The
look to me with the awe and reverence that I have
worked for over the megania.

But I digress momentarily. I was not always a god.
No, no, no. I was once the humble servant to the
Autobots; a hero of heroes, the legendary figure. I was
revered and beloved by all who knew me and my
accomplishments.

Don't be too hasty to think me a saint, however.
It's not my intention to rise to sainthood. Sanctity
never earned more than a few nods from the religious
crowd. The rest . . . is worth more my concern than a
few who try to be Primus' placaters. I worked covertly
for the Decepticons, too. Oh, they're so childish,
thinking they could conquer and rule and destroy at a
whim. Not that they've not done that very thing to a
number of worlds, but that they have YET to conquer
their own home world.

Oh, they came close. They came painfully close. But
see here . . . I'm in control. Not Galvatron, not
Optimus Prime . . . me.

I'm the real Decepticon in this game. I'm the real
villain that Optimus Prime could not destroy. I am the
chessboard upon which all the pieces rise and fall. I
am the scorekeeper and the referee. I am judge, jury
and executioner.

As I sit here within the comfortable spaces of
Vector Sigma's mind, I contemplate my next move, my
next decision, my next target. I REALLY want to
eliminate the present Autobot leadership-Optimus Prime
AND Ultra Magnus. They're both loose cannons;
unpredictable, dangerous.

Why?

One word: Earth. I cannot control the Autobots if
they are scattered to the solar winds. If I cannot
control the Autobots, I cannot control the Decepticons.
And the Decepticons are my special ones. It does not
take as much effort to motivate Decepticons.

But HOW?

I spend time contemplating on the infinite that is
Vector Sigma. It is capacity barely contained. It is
thought beyond mere creature. Vector Sigma is knowledge
and experience ages beyond Cybertron.

Primacron saw to that.

Too bad the Quintessons had to tamper with it. -or
was it a bad thing? Were it not for the tampering,
there would never have been a war. Had there never been
a war, the Transformers would never have kicked the
Quintessons off and had THAT not happened, they'd all
still be enslaved; children of a cold, heartless,
greedy society.

And now, millions of years later . . . millions of
years and many, many rulers later, I have finally
become supreme. But inside Cybertron Vector Sigma
sleeps in its chamber, forgotten and neglected.

This was not what I had in mind. When I intended
for the Aerialbots to activate, I had hoped to renew
the vigor and respect owed to the supercomputer for
granting intelligent life. Instead, Optimus Prime
directs his new crew back to Earth to fight. And it
left me with Vector Sigma all but forgotten.

What can I do to renew their awe and inspiration?
How can I become a central part of their lives?

I can start with confusion.

Confusion always distracts the mind. I can confuse
both sides so that they will be forced to turn to
Vector Sigma, to turn to ME for help.

I will find a way to kill both leaders. I will
find a way to inspire the next generation to return to
Cybertron, to return to their homeworld.

What's that you say? How can I be so cold-hearted
and power mad?

I'm doing it for their own good, naturally. They
are children. They do not know what's best for them.
And don't worry; I know what I'm doing because I've
done it before. Prime Nova. Corruptus (Decepticon war
lord), Maximus Prime, Primus Superior . . . they all
fell according to my plans. Why? Why the carnage? Why
the destruction of entire populations?

But not at the moment. Somehow, by some remote
freak event, Optimus Prime has managed to come back to
life!

I swear profusely within my world of comfort and
power. How can death be reversed? And what am I to do
about it now?

Ah, there . . . something's not quite right
anymore. It seems events will turn to my advantage.
Yes, I can see how Optimus Prime can be manipulated
through dreams and visions . . . I can either redirect
him, or destroy him.

Difficult decision.

I taunt him; overload his mind with thoughts and
plans . . . and make new plans of my own.

The plasma energy chamber . . . oh, Vector Sigma
tells me there is a way to revitalize Cybertron by
using the chamber!!

I/We would be revered! Finally! At last! A way to
attain true godhood! We would put the whole planet on
reset! We would recreate life and start up a whole new
Golden Age!

And THEN all Transformers will live in harmony,
worshiping their god of life: Vector Sigma and I, Alpha
Trion would be remembered and respected! I will be
Sigma's voice and Prime . . . Prime will be ENSLAVED as
my puppet, forced to do my every bidding, forced to
exist between MY commands and desires and those of his
people. And every Prime after him will suffer the very
same fate.

I will molest them all.

The Quintessons thought Megatron was their ultimate
achievement.

Vector Sigma will be mine.

With its power and my right to rulership, Cybertron
will become the mighty empire it was destined to be.
Autobots will serve me and the Decepticons will protect
me. And all worlds will think of Cybertron and Vector
Sigma as one of the great wonders of the galaxy-of the
universe!

Wait . . . wait a minute.

Something's not right. There's a white spark, hot,
searing; it tears right through Vector Sigma's chamber;
right through me.

Was that supposed to happen?

There it is again!

What's that I see? It's so bright, like . . . light
caught on fire; a type of light I've never seen before.
It's . . . it's wordlessly magnificent!

Wait . . . it speaks. Yes, it's saying something.

What?

Judgment?

For what?

Don't you know who and what I am? I am the god of
Cybertron! You cannot destroy me . . . I have a
destiny! I have a people who will come to adore me!

No! You can't take that! You can't do that!

Nothing I say or attempt or reason or excuse I make
does any good.

To my utter horror, I am taken from Vector Sigma
and I watch as its light fails, its insides shrivel,
its knowledge lost to the ages. It falls oh so slowly,
painfully. It takes all my hopes and dreams with it. It
falls and shatters upon the floor, a pile of charred
and broken glass.